


Who we come back for

by connyhascontrol



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connyhascontrol/pseuds/connyhascontrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mike introduces them at the lab at Bart's they've known each other for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who we come back for

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally inspired by an imagineyourotp tumblr post and was supposed to be really fluffy and adorable and that's not how it turned out at all, I'm sorry.
> 
> This isn't beta'd or britpicked, it's 8 am and I just finished writing this after a night of not sleeping. So if you find any mistakes please let me know.

The first time they meet is at 4 a.m. at the emergency room. His brother brings him in, explaining how a chemical experiment blew up while the teenager sits there with burnt, blistered hands and sulks. His sulking eventually dissipates into quietness as John applies salve and bandages to his hands, giving him instructions when to change them and when to get a check-up. The boy looks at him with a disquieting intensity and nods.

He comes back for his check-up right at the end of John's shift. He tells the first-year resident who's taking over for him that it's all right, he'll do that one. His hands have healed exceptionally well. John tells him so as he gently touches the new pink skin with his own fingers. He sends him home with the advice of taking it easy for a while and being more careful in general. This time he doesn't even nod. In the following months John finds himself thinking about Sherlock Holmes, how he fixed John with those exceptional eyes, wondering how is voice may sound.

Another night at the ER brings the answer to that. John hears the commotion when he sends an elderly gentleman out, who had somehow managed to hack into his lower leg with an axe. 

„We're very busy tonight and there is nothing wrong with you that requires immediate medical attention. I suggest you see your GP tomorrow.“

„I am not leaving before I've seen Dr. Watson.“

„Fine, take a seat it could be a few hours until he can take care of you.“

On the way to the nurse to get the next patient file he acknowledges Sherlock's presence with a nod.

„So what's up with him?“ The nurse glares at him.

„You tell me. He strolled in here like he owns the place, demanding to see you immediately and when I asked him about the nature of his medical emergency he said he'd stubbed his toe.“ 

As much as he wants to John doesn't let Sherlock jump the queue and tends to all other patients first. Besides, a little patience might do him good. When he finally sits on the examination table he quickly pulls off his right shoe and sock, practically wiggling his toes at John. Except for his big toe which has in fact turned deep purple. His hair is a bit longer then when he'd last seen him and John can't decide whether it makes him look younger or older.

„I kicked my dresser.“, Sherlock explains with a deep silky voice no 19-year-old should be allowed to have. 

„I'm sure he deserved it.“, John says while carefully prodding the toe.

„Aren't you going to tell me that I should know better than to let out my anger on furniture?“

„Obviously that's a conclusion you've come to all by yourself so why would I waste our time? Now, I'm sure it's only a sprain but I'm sending you upstairs to get an x-ray. 3rd floor, off you go!“ Sherlock doesn't bother putting his sock and shoe back on and walks out half barefoot, leaving behind a young doctor with a small, content smile. It only is a sprain of course, and toes tend to heal just fine when they're left alone. They say goodbye without promises of check-ups but smiling at each other for the first time.

A few weeks later Sherlock shows up with a nosebleed. 

„I got punched.“

„Figured that much.“ John mops up the blood on Sherlock's face and then there isn't really anything to do but John keeps gently wiping down Sherlock's face, who just sits there and looks at him. At some point John's hands stop moving and his fingers rest on Sherlock's cheek. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his mouth to John's in a chaste, nervous kiss. And before John can even think about how to tell him that it would be highly inappropriate to have anything but a professional relationship with him Sherlock has left. 

He doesn't show up at the ER again after that. Not by choice, anyway. When he does several months have passed. He is unconscious, OD'ed, the paramedics tell him. And John feels an overwhelming warmth for that boy, who is no longer a teenager, but looks smaller than ever, pale and alone in that hospital bed. John stays with him as long as he is unconscious. He leaves, telling himself that he already cares far too much. He keeps an eye on Sherlock's recovery in the next week but doesn't go to see him again.

The next time Sherlock comes to the ER the only thing wrong with him is that he's a junkie. It's so obvious that John finds it hard to look at him. 

„But everything hurts!“, he states with desperation and John believes him but there is nothing he can do.

The army is just what John needs. Space, a sense of usefulness and most importantly, what he has trouble admitting to himself, danger. And when his mates talk about their girlfriends and wives at home all he can think of is a lonely, desperate young man who looked at John like he was life itself the last time they saw each other. When the bullet hits his shoulder, tears through his flesh, and he thinks these are his last moments on earth he doesn't see his parent's faces or his sisters, he sees Sherlock's wide, shining eyes just before he leaned in and kissed him.

Back in London it's hard to determine what actually is his life. Weeks ago his actions decided over life and death, priorities were brilliantly simple. Here and now everything seems unimportant to the exact same degree. Therapy is unimportant. His financial situation should worry him but he can't find it in himself to care. He doesn't want to see Mike Stamford, doesn't want to talk to his former good friend who now seems like a person from a different life. But he might get something out of it after all, even if it's only a flat share. 

The voice is a familiar one and so is the face that appears behind the microscope. They stare at each other, neither breathing a word of their former meetings but their fingertips brush when John gives Sherlock his phone and they both suck in air as if their touch had been electrically charged.

„Afghanistan or Iraq?“, Sherlock asks with curiosity and, it appears, scorn. When Sherlock finishes explaining to him how he knew John can't keep still. His body pushes forward, his hands grab the lapels of Sherlock's suit jacket and their lips meet, finally, in a proper kiss. John doesn't care that his mate Mike is sitting right there as he pushes his tongue into Sherlock Holmes' mouth, breathes his air. When they break apart it's only a few centimeters and breathlessly they keep holding on to each other.

„Took you long enough to come back.“ John can feel Sherlock's voice resonate in his chest.

„Wasn't sure if there was anything to come back to.“

„I thought I made myself clear. I needed you to make everything stop hurting.“

„I will now if you will, too.“

"It will be my privilege."


End file.
